Lorna, a mimosa sounds like the perfect breakfast drink for these glorious mornings! It’s time to get some fancy glasses down from the top shelf and prepare summertime cocktails. Thanks for the inspiration.
I bought a set of four crystal margarita glasses after turning 50 and having a shitload of birthday money, given me by my sisters, to spend. I figured one day we’d have Faye and Rick over for a margarita night. Still haven’t done it. Usually when they come over it’s caesars and beer, or rye and coke. Everything but margaritas!
Bev arrives Sunday night; I must ask if she likes tequila and, if so, add a thing or two to my grocery list.
Dad’s driven in from Kelowna and came over for a few hours yesterday, had a lunch of poached eggs and toast with me, then headed off to see if he could catch a certain old friend at home or at the lake. Emil’s got the day off since his workplace is preparing for a golf fundraiser, so I’ll pick him up earlier than usual for a Friday and we’re going to Margo for supper at Karen’s, where Dad’s staying. I’m making a marinated pasta salad to contribute.
Emil turned 30 yesterday and was released from his job to celebrate. He wanted to sleep in as late as he liked, he told Tracy (his “primary caregiver” at the group home), and then they were going to have a “fun day.” That would mean going downtown, driving around a bit, getting a bite to eat. They were invited out here for cake (which I’d’ve made if they were coming) but this was declined as he was determined to spend the day in town.
“We can have a birthday weekend when I come out,” he said, “right, Mom?” He figures we should stop at the drive-thru and bring home a big bucket of takeout chicken as a birthday supper tomorrow. “I’d like that,” he said when he phoned last night. They’d also gone shopping at the Red Apple store and he’d purchased a couple Sesame Street DVDs.
Once in a while I hear Emil’s exact tone of voice when I, myself, speak. I don’t know if he gets it from me or the other way around. Must be the former. But maybe not.